41: The white Kinghts of the Capital

Katharine led the way while Hilary trailed behind, her steps quick and uneasy.
The grandmaster walked silently beside Gilly. Each moment in her presence left him unsettled.
Something about this girl disturbed the flow of mana around him—subtle yet undeniable. He couldn’t explain it, so he simply walked on in silence.

They moved through the streets, retracing their path back to the castle.
To their left loomed a tall building beside the gate—its shadow stretching across the courtyard.
Then Gilly saw them: two faint, glowing eyes staring down from the tower above.
Her breath hitched. She quickly looked away.
Zenora, tense, clung tightly to Zin’s shirt as they continued.

The long corridor ahead swallowed their footsteps. Every sound echoed against the stone until they reached the central hall.
At the end stood two guards in white armor.

“Who goes there?” one of them barked.

Katharine’s eyes gleamed. “It seems you’ve gone blind from standing in the dark too long.”

Both guards crossed their spears, blocking the path.
“None shall pass. Orders from the Baron.”

Hilary stepped forward, trying to keep calm. “It’s an emergency. We need to get through.”

“I cannot allow it,” the guard repeated firmly. “The Baron’s orders are absolute.”

The grandmaster’s gaze hardened. Even in my presence they dare act this way? Someone must be pulling strings, he thought, though he held his tongue. He was, after all, second in command to the Baron himself.

Katharine’s expression darkened. As one of the ministers, she refused to accept such insolence.
Before she could act, Hilary’s patience snapped.

“I order you—as vice-captain—clear… the… way!” she said through gritted teeth.

The air heated. The faint shimmer of mana radiated from her skin.
“Vice-captain or not,” the guard sneered, “you’re not our equal.”

Even Zin’s hand moved to his sword—a rare sign of his irritation.
Before anyone could speak, new footsteps echoed behind them.

“Well, well. Things are getting heated,” a deep voice drawled.
“Didn’t expect to find them here,” said another, familiar voice—the man who had left the room earlier.

Katharine turned sharply. “Is this your way of getting back at me, Luka?”

The grandmaster’s brow furrowed. “Claude,” he murmured, recognizing the mana signature. So that’s why he left… loyal to the capital’s leash, as always.

The two figures emerged into the light.
The first—massive, scarred, his white hair like frost—wore gold-trimmed armor and a flowing cape. His presence filled the hall.
Beside him stood a leaner man in simpler white armor—Luka.

“Madam Katharine,” Claude said with a smile. “Good to see you.”

“Grandmaster,” Claude added politely, stepping closer.

“Claude, good that you’re here. We need—” the grandmaster began, but Claude had already moved past him, stopping before Zin.

“Oh, Zin. I didn’t know you were here. I’d have come to see you personally.”
His eyes drifted—and landed on Gilly.

His smile faded.

Luka noticed Claude’s sudden focus and smirked. “So that’s the girl, huh?”
Without warning, he released a pulse of intent toward Gilly, curious to see what she would do.

Gilly froze.
Her mind blurred as invisible blades of pressure stabbed through her chest again and again.
It was as though she were being carved open by sheer will.

Then a whisper slithered through her mind:
Mischievous ones should know their place.

Her aura flared instinctively.
The world seemed to hold its breath.

For a heartbeat—just one—every soul in that hall felt death brush against them.
Then it was gone.

Luka staggered back, eyes wide. His hand touched his cheek; blood streaked his fingers.
“I… I couldn’t even react,” he thought, trembling.

Claude turned to him, expression unreadable. “Hmm. I didn’t see that move either.”

The others slowly realized Luka’s face had been sliced—just a thin, clean line—but none had seen Gilly move.
Zin glanced at her. She gripped her sword tightly, eyes wide in confusion.
Zenora pressed herself deeper into Zin’s back, shivering.

Claude studied Gilly.
“This girl… she feels strange,” he murmured. “Too ordinary.”
Then softer, almost to himself—“She’s almost like her…”

Luka said nothing for the rest of the encounter.
Claude only smiled faintly. “Don’t mind me. I’m simply fascinated by her eyes.”

He shifted his gaze to Hilary. “So, why are you all here?”

“We need to send these ones to the border,” Hilary said flatly.

“The Baron said no,” Claude replied, his tone sharpening as his aura filled the room.
Katharine’s lips tightened. The grandmaster’s expression soured—he outranked Claude in position, yet Claude’s favor with the capital gave him unchecked confidence.
That arrogance again, Katharine thought bitterly. Always acting like a god among men.

Claude looked toward Zin, searching for a reaction. Zin remained indifferent.

“Fine,” Claude said finally, lowering his aura. “I’ll let you pass. But on one condition.”
He turned to Zin, smiling faintly. “Next time we meet, we’ll have a duel. Agreed?”

Zin nodded once.

“Then that’s that. Oh—and tell Pom I said hello. It’s been too long.”
He motioned for the guards to open the gate.

Inside, the chamber was circular, the walls etched with glowing runes. Layers of magic circles overlapped beneath their feet.

“Language beatification active,” a calm voice echoed in Gilly’s mind.

The grandmaster raised his hands, white light streaming from his body like mist.
“Hold on,” he warned quietly. “This might sting.”

A blinding flash filled the room—then Zin’s group was gone.

The grandmaster collapsed to one knee, panting. Katharine caught his arm.
“You’re too old for this,” she muttered.

Claude, watching them, turned to Hilary. “That blue-haired girl—who is she?”

Hilary met his gaze without hesitation. “A friend.”

“I see,” Claude said, voice unreadable. He turned toward the door, Luka following closely behind.
As he walked, his expression twisted into a faint look of disgust.

“Gilly…” he murmured to himself.
“One who can make me rethink my decisions. Interesting.”